Caledonia
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: AU set during Ruth's exile, where some travel and a beautiful song bring two people together. Inspired by Caledonia by Celtic Woman.


**Caledonia**

She tried not to do it often. It was almost a year before she tried for the first time. And she was very careful about it. An Internet cafe in a smaller city in Slovakia. A quick search. Nothing to report in either direction. Fine.

But once Ruth had found some semblance of life and home in Cyprus, she felt the siren call so much stronger. The illusion of safety made her bold. Perhaps careless. She used the computer in the library. Once again, nothing new. Probably for the best.

And George began to lose the veneer of charm and kindness that had first broken down her protective isolationism. He was a wonderful father to Nico and a good man, but he did not like secrets. And Ruth's inability to give this man all of herself—or really any of herself—started to wear on him. He grew short with her. And Ruth longed for the understanding and safety she had left behind.

The searches were more frequent. One day, she found something new. A knighthood. Inexplicably, that bit of information made her smile for days. Sir Harry Pearce. What a wonderful thought.

But as happy as knowing about Harry made her, it made her heart ache for him even more. That was how he had always been for her, like a drug, like every little bit of him only made her need him more and more. So much that it terrified her and made her run. But she sacrificed everything, which she would never regret doing.

When she murmured Harry's name instead of George's, Ruth knew it was time to go. George was a jealous sort of man and Ruth had no real explanation for him. So rather than have a mighty row and be kicked out, she had told him she would leave. She told him it wasn't working between them and there was no use forcing it. She kissed Nico and held him tight and apologized to him. And the next day, she was gone.

The next search was made from Venice. And that was when she knew. Sir Harry Pearce had retired. A short press release from the Home Secretary. Ros Myers, of all people, was named Head of Section D. But that was of no concern to Ruth now.

It took some time, to be able to make her way north without being noticed. And even then, she avoided London. Ruth was able to fly directly into Aberdeen from Amsterdam. And that was where she truly began.

* * *

About four months into his retirement, Harry received a personally addressed invitation to a choir concert in some place called Cove Bay. The handwriting on the envelope was vaguely familiar, but for the life of him, Harry couldn't recall how. He wasn't quite worried, however, as he was retired now and other than personal revenge, there could be no valid motive for anyone to try to do him harm anymore.

He looked up the place and the little church where this concert was to be held in a few weeks. Small town in Scotland, just outside Aberdeen. Strange place for anyone to invite him to a concert. Inconvenient place to get to, as well. Though now that he was retired, Harry didn't have much filling his days. He knew he wanted to sell his house and travel like he'd always wanted—even if he didn't quite want to go alone—but he had not made any such arrangements as of yet.

The invitation to a choir concert intrigued him. The location intrigued him. And he had nothing else to do. He would go, he decided. And he would drive, rather than fly. Flying would certainly be quicker, but airport security was a bother, and if Harry was going to be smart about this, he knew he'd need to bring a gun. He would take his own car on a ten-hour drive for the sake of his own safety. Besides, what else did he have to occupy him?

The concert was in three days. He arrived in Cove Bay in two. Harry booked himself into a small inn right near the little church. The town was rather charming. Old but very refreshed; money from city retirees and weekenders had clearly brought vitality and a much-needed update to much of the high street with its charming cafés and botanical shops and artisan showrooms. Not at all the sort of place Harry much enjoyed, particularly not alone, but he could certainly understand the appeal.

He wandered around after he arrived, needing to stretch his legs after so long in the car. The weather was cold but bright, which Harry suspected was rather typical for this area. A stroll would do him good. He'd enjoyed walks through city streets alone since he'd retired. It was nice to not worry about the time or where he was going or who might be around the bend; he was blissfully free of many such concerns now. But this trip up to Scotland was not merely for pleasure. Someone had lured him up here, and that purpose had not been revealed as of yet.

A woman in an off-white wool coat with dark hair rounded the corner and went into the bakery a block ahead of where Harry was walking, and he cursed himself for the way his heart immediately skipped. Any time he saw a brunette about that height, he imagined it might be Ruth. Of course it couldn't be, particularly after so long and in Britain. But his mind instinctively went to her anyway. She had even had a coat like that, Harry recalled. But Ruth was lost to him, gone with the wind on the Thames, hopefully safe and happy somewhere out in the world.

That small sighting put him right out of the mood, so he went back to the inn where he was staying and ordered food and drink up from the pub. He didn't want to be around people anymore. His retirement was lonely and devoid of the distractions that Grid had once provided. And having his nose rubbed in happiness around him when he felt like this was absolutely no good. He'd have a night to himself and read a book and go to bed early. There was nothing much else to do.

As he stared at the ceiling in the dark, unable to fall asleep, Harry reluctantly let his mind wander to Ruth once more. He had loved her for so long. It was quite pathetic, actually, the way he pined for her. Then and now. She was timid and shy and brilliant and lovely, and she'd turned him away. But still he clung to her, to the memory of her friendly comfort, the way her hand felt on his arm when she lightly put it there, the way the light reflected in her eyes as she sipped her wine at the dinner table, the way her tongue got tangled by words that wouldn't come out of her mouth fast enough to keep up with her thoughts. Perhaps his memory of her was unlike reality, perhaps she wasn't actually as perfect and magnificent as he imagined. But there was nothing Harry could do for it. He loved her. And she was gone, never to return.

The decision to retire had been borne from hurt and longing more than anything else. Too many losses, not enough to keep him sitting in that office with the red wall. He'd nearly packed it in the day Adam died in that fiery explosion. Wanted to hold Wes Carter in his arms and never let him go, adopt the boy whose parents had been killed on Harry's watch. But of course that was not a proper option. Wes lived with his grandparents and Harry had a job to do. Connie, though. Connie broke him. Her betrayal and her death were more than Harry could handle. He gave his resignation the next day.

Harry knew he would find something to do eventually. Sir Harry Pearce would drift off into the wind, wandering the world the way he imagined his love had done the day she kissed him goodbye on that dock. Maybe he would even run into Ruth somewhere. Probably not. She was a born spook, good at hiding when she didn't want to be found. And Harry wouldn't do her the disrespect of digging her up. But he would still think of her, that odd woman who had so stolen his heart. He would go to the choir concert he'd been invited to and see what this was all about. Harry smiled softly to himself. Ruth had been part of a choir in London, though he'd never gotten to see her sing. He would think of her when he saw the choir tomorrow.

* * *

Ruth had no idea if her plan would work. There were so many variables, so many things that would need to come together for this to work. Although 'work' was a loose term. She didn't even really know what she wanted to have happen. She'd gotten a mad idea in her head and been too terrified of the possibilities to fully commit to it. Things would happen however they were supposed to. She couldn't keep worrying about it now. After all, she had a concert to get to.

She had joined the choir immediately upon arriving in Cove Bay. The flat she rented above the bakery served her purposes, the job she'd secured at the bookshop paid her meagre bills, and the choir satisfied her creative and social needs. The people were very kind to her. And the choir, in all honesty, was only barely better than mediocre. Ruth was out of practice and certainly didn't have a professional voice, but her natural skill was enough to get the director excited. So excited, in fact, that she had been given a solo in the finale piece for the concert she'd barely joined in time to be a part of.

The day had finally arrived, and the rest of her fifteen-person choir was all atwitter with excitement. Ruth gave them friendly smiles but kept quiet and to herself as much as she could.

"You nervous, Ruth?"

She turned to see Rowland, one of the tenors. "A bit. This is the first time I've performed for an audience in years," she confessed. Of course, that wasn't quite the reason she was nervous.

"You'll do beautifully," Serena gushed, putting a friendly hand on Ruth's shoulder. "You're a marvelous singer, Ruth."

That made her smile. A kind compliment, but more than anything, she was still not quite used to being called by her name. This was the first time in over two years that she'd used the name Ruth. She had a false surname, just in case, but there was something about being back in Britain and the very slim possibility of seeing Harry that made her need her own name.

The time had come. The choir all filed into the church to applause from their small audience. After all, it was a small town, and the only people who would bother coming to see them perform were their own friends and family. Ruth had only sent one invitation. She had no idea if the address was correct, if it had been opened or just chucked in the bin with the adverts and credit card offers, if the invitation had elicited any interest whatsoever.

In all likelihood, even if Harry did still live in the same house and had opened the envelope containing the invitation to the concert, even if he had not moved or been out of town at the time it arrived, there was almost no chance in the world that he would have traveled all the way up to Cove Bay for a choir concert for seemingly no reason at all. Oh what a stupid idea all this was!

But Ruth put all of that out of her mind as she began to sing. The theme of the concert was Celebrating Scotland. And even though she was English, the rest of the choir did not seem to begrudge her for it. She enjoyed the old folk songs they sang, the moving melodies and sentimental lyrics. Her favorite of the songs would be the finale, and it was the song that had inspired her to send that invitation to Harry in the first place. It was also the song where she had a solo.

Ruth looked out over the pews filled with people, most of whom she recognized as people in town she'd seen a time or two over the past months. Harry was not among them, as far as she could see. And a part of her was disappointed. But she would not dwell on such things. After all, she knew that there was no real chance he would come. Instead, she concentrated on her singing. The finale was coming up.

* * *

Harry sat in the back of the little church, hidden by shadow and mostly obstructed from view by a great stone pillar. He was still wary of the purpose for his invitation. He kept to himself and observed those around him carefully. No one seemed to notice him or pay him any mind. While waiting for the concert to begin, he skimmed through the program, noting the songs and the names of the choir members. Again, no names he recognized. He saw a Ruth Wynn listed for a solo at the end, and he once again hated himself for the way his heart jumped at the name. He was being foolish again.

The choir came out and everyone applauded in greeting. He looked up to see them and was immediately assaulted by the reason for his invitation.

There she was. Ruth. His Ruth. In a choir in a small town in Scotland, of all places. How she had gotten here and how he had been invited to come see her was beyond him for the time being. All he knew was that she was there, singing amongst about a dozen barely-passable voices. Harry wasn't sure if he was about to faint or laugh or weep. There was far too much swirling around his mind.

He was rather sure that she couldn't see him. He flattered himself to think that she might react visibly if she did. Ruth had always been cursed with a face that betrayed her feelings. It was unlikely she would remain stoic if she were to see him unexpectedly. Or perhaps he did expect her. He wasn't quite sure just yet.

For the final number, Ruth herself came to stand in front for her solo. The piano accompaniment began and her voice rang out clear and high and beautifully:

_I don't know if you can see the changes that have come over me. These last few days, I've been afraid that I might drift away. I've been telling old stories, singing songs that made me think about where I've come from. That's the reason why I seem so far away today._

The choir all joined in for the chorus. The melody and the words pierced Harry straight in his aching heart.

_Let me tell you that I love you, that I think about you all the time. Caledonia, you're calling me, now I'm going home. But if I should become a stranger, know that it would make me more than sad. Caledonia's been everything I've ever had._

* * *

Ruth was pleased with how her solo had been going thus far. Just as rehearsed. It really was a beautiful song. And the whole of it filled her with dreams of Harry. She began to sing the second verse.

_Now I have moved and I've kept on moving, proved the points that I needed proving, lost the friends that I needed losing, found others on the way. I've kissed the fellas and left them crying, stolen dreams, yes there's no denying. I've travelled hard, sometimes with conscience flying somewhere with the wind. _

The choir swelled behind her for the chorus. She had to try not to cry when she thought of Harry's dear face at the lyrics 'let me tell you that I love you, that I think about you all the time' for no truer words expressed what she longed to be able to say to him, what she'd desperately wished she could have said before she said goodbye to him on that cold dawn morning.

The bridge of the song was there before she knew it, the tricky part she had a bit of trouble with, for the piano fell away and Ruth's voice sang completely on its own.

_Now I'm sitting here before the fire, the empty room, the forest choir. The flames have cooled, don't get any higher. They've withered now, they've gone. But I'm steady thinking my way is clear, and I know what I will do tomorrow. When hands have shaken and kisses flowed, then I will disappear._

As they all sang the final chorus, Ruth noticed some movement in the back of the church. Her eye was drawn to it even as she was singing. She wanted to be bothered by the interruption to the beautiful song she loved so well, but it was a miracle she was able to keep from passing out in shock.

There he was. Harry. Her Harry. Ruth gasped but continued to sing as the tears flowed from her eyes unchecked. She had assumed he hadn't come. When she didn't see him all through the concert, she figured he wasn't there. It didn't occur to her that he may have been hiding from view, only to stand up and be seen in the midst of the finale when she was singing right to him, whether or not he knew it. But of course he knew. Of course he remained out of sight. He was a spook through and through, and a brilliant one at that. He would not have risked his own exposure, but he would certainly deduce the meaning of the song for the two of them.

It had been her idea, initially, to invite him without a word, and if he came, she would wait to see what he would do before making any move. Her infrequent internet searches had not turned up anything other than the knighthood and the retirement, but who was to say he had not moved on and found a woman to share his life? He might be married, for all Ruth knew. And even if he was not, there was every chance that he had forgotten her; the odds of Harry still loving her as he once had were slim. But then again, the odds of him showing up at her choir concert were just as slim. Yet here he was. Hope like she had not felt in years welled up in her heart.

* * *

The concert ended in thunderous applause from the audience. The choir all left the stage to greet their loved ones. Ruth remained rooted to the spot. She wanted to run to Harry and leap into his arms and kiss him like never before, but she could not manage to move. Why had he come? What was he expecting? How did he feel about her? What was he going to do? She had no answer to any of those questions, and she could not contemplate what might happen next.

He approached her wholly uncontrolled. He could not stop himself from walking towards her any more than he could have stopped his own heart beating. She was crying, he could see. The tears were falling down her cheeks but even so, she looked so utterly lovely.

"Hello, Ruth," he said quietly, standing before her.

"Hello, Harry," she replied. "I'm glad you accepted the invitation to the concert."

He smiled. "Did you send it?"

"Yes."

"Why?" he asked. "Why now? After so long?"

"I tried to keep tabs on you as much as I could. As much as it was safe to do so. I saw you'd retired. And I thought that it might be alright now, to come find you. I didn't know if you were at the same address. I didn't know if you'd come."

He nodded. "I am at the same address. I didn't have anything else to do, and I was curious. I'm glad I took the chance to come all the way up here."

"So am I," she replied softly.

Unable to stop himself, Harry reached out to cup her cheek and wipe the tears with his thumb. Ruth gasped slightly upon the contact but pressed into his touch. Harry caressed her soft skin, marveling at the ability to do such a thing. "You're more beautiful than I've ever seen you," he told her. "And you sing magnificently."

She smiled at him. "I sang that last song for you. I mean, it was already on the program for the choir, but for me…when I sing it, it's for you."

And at her words, Harry felt all his dreams come true. Connie's words rang in his mind, that he had no Lady Pearce. "I have missed you so much, Ruth. I can't tell you what it means to me."

Ruth only nodded and took a step closer to him. Harry met her halfway as their eyes shut and their lips collided. It was horribly inappropriate, to kiss passionately in a church with all those people milling about nearby. But Harry had a feeling that Ruth, like he himself, did not care in that moment, and could not resist that kiss for even a second longer.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Ruth woke from her light doze and felt a slight chill over her body. The duvet was pushed down to the bottom of her bed, leaving her body to shiver in the nighttime air. She pulled it up and settled back to sleep. But before she did so, she turned to watch the rise and fall of Harry's bare chest as he slept.

Ever so softly, she began to sing, "Let me tell you that I love you, that I think about you all the time…"

And on hearing her words, Harry smiled.


End file.
